The Stars Will Show You Home
by NineStoicCrayolas
Summary: She would always remember the exact, minute detail in which she died. She would also, always remember the way she screamed when she woke and found unfamiliar dark eyes staring down at her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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Sakura remembered in exact, minute detail the way she died.

It had been a snowy October night in Iwa, and the wind had picked up, blocking her nose from catching the smells of the icy forest. It was dark, that day, and she remembered the way the cold had set into her bones, how her blood was splattered in unique, globulous patterns across her chest and how she stared up at the sky, her eyes listless and unblinking.

The last thing she had seen had been dark, empty eyes, no hint of a smile on his face.

He had left her to die there in the snow, her blood seeping out into the snow, staining it a horrifying red. Her mission had been to assassinate one of the highest ranking Lords in the Iwa court, a request from the Tsuchikage himself and Tsunade-sama had agreed, knowing that it would strengthen Konoha relations between the illusive Iwagakure Village.

She had slaughtered the entire room full of corrupt officials, ignoring the rising bile on her tongue and the way her hands trembled on her katana blades.

And yet, it had been the missing-nin with the strange, empty black eyes that had killed her, a kunai straight to her chest. She had been foolish, her chakra was low and her genjutsu had faltered for a moment, giving way to show brilliant, dusty pink hair that shone in the moonlight, and, he had caught her.

Sakura had not recognized him—at first, she had thought it was Sasuke, for this shinobi had been pale and surprisingly similar in face to her teammate—but when she saw the lack of sharingan, she knew that it could not possibly be him.

She remembered the exact way the kunai had sliced through her skin, tearing through muscle and bone, splintering a path through her sternum and chest plate, blood immediately seeping through the thick, black thermal sweater she had hastily shoved on that bitter cold morning.

Sakura had choked, and blood streamed in a thin line from her mouth to her chin, saliva following it. She would have had a chance at healing it, her chakra had sputtered in her hands like the dying flame of a fire, but she knew, instantly, that the shinobi had put a chakra-blocking drug on the blade. In a desperate effort to survive, she had yanked the kunai out of her chest, placing a shaking hand to her bleeding sternum and, her chakra seeping away with every movement, she lurched forward and grabbed a hold of his arm.

With one last churning effort, she gritted her teeth and wrenched his arm. He had screamed then, a high-pitched bellow that startled several birds out of their trees and Sakura had grinned, blood staining her perfectly-white teeth as the limb came clean off, the hand and forearm crushed between her fingers.

It had been then that her heart sputtered finally in her chest, her eyes rolling back in her head and she slumped to the ground, the enemy-nin's arm still clutched in her fingers tightly. She felt someone try to pry it out of her grasp and her eyes fluttered open, catching one last sight of those dark, black and empty unfamiliar eyes.

They stayed with her as her body grew colder, the breath finally leaving her in a slow puff of white cloud.

When the shinobi retrieval team had collected her a week later, Naruto's screams echoed throughout the forest and the flaming hot, furious chakra of a tailed beast filled the air.

Miles away, a dark-haired, dark-eyed man clutched at his chest, rubbing at the empty feeling that seemed to envelop him.

* * *

She awoke with a scream.

Someone sighed in relief and Sakura blinked blearily, her entire body trembling as she tried to understand her surroundings. She was lying on something warm and wet, and her body felt like wobbly jello. Something came into her vision and she squinted, trying to see past the blurry gray blob of lifeform and see any closer details.

"She's awake—good. I thought for a minute there…"

A shaky sob filled the air and Sakura blinked again, her sight beginning to clear up and she managed to spot that she was on some kind of table. The ceiling was white and instantly, she knew she was in the hospital. The smell of rubbing alcohol, blood and human fluids filled the room and Sakura tried to move in order to see better, when someone picked her up.

She yelped.

"Hush, little one." Someone cooed in her ear. "You're alright now, you're alright. You gave Okaa-chan and I a nasty scare."

Blindly reaching out to grab something, she caught a hold of something soft and feathery. It was then she realized that the person who had picked her up had hands that spanned her entire waist. Blinking rapidly, she finally caught a sight of who was…holding her.

A man was beaming down at her, tears in his dark eyes. His hair, clutched in her pudgy hands, was curly, frizz beginning to appear at his hairline and it looked like he had run through the shiny black strands several times. His eyes were red-rimmed and his mouth was trembling a half-smile on his face as he soothed a thumb over her—now chubby—cheeks and the hair that felt more like peach fuzz.

Sakura felt the urge to pinch herself and maybe scream at the top of her lungs.

Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes wide and tried not to squirm as the man pressed a soft kiss to her temple and turned her over. So that she could face…what Sakura assumed was her mother. If she had been in her—old body? Normal body—her mouth would have dropped open, a gasp would have escaped her lips at the sight of the slumped woman with the tired smile.

Instead she just keened, a low, enthusiastic sound that had her…father…chuckling at her.

"She recognizes her Mother, Hanako."

"Of course she does, Shouta. I gave _birth_ to her."

The woman was absolutely _beautiful._ Her hair was long and jet black, and while it was mussed, it still looked sleek and shiny, falling past her breasts to rest on her slightly rounded stomach. Her eyes were large and red-rimmed but they were a beautiful glassy onyx that reminded Sakura of the night sky, with even more of a twinkle than the stars.

It was then that Sakura noticed the little clump of swaddled blankets and the pink face that—she assumed—looked much like her own—clutched in the woman's arms.

"What should we call them?" The man asked the woman, still pressing soft, loving kisses to the crown of her head.

A part of Sakura wanted to yank away with a growl, but she realized that if she was truly a child (some part of her was screaming and Sakura made sure that if she woke up tomorrow in the same condition she would allow herself a proper freak out) she would not have the muscle mass or density to properly do that yet.

The woman smiled down at the baby in her arms and soothed a thumb over the crown of her face, taking care not to wake the slumbering babe. "Mikoto."

Something in Sakura's head twitched at the name, a slow sort of dawning realization but it was interrupted by the man's voice.

"What about Hinata for this one? It means sunflower."

The woman wrinkled her nose. "No. How about…Sakura."

Her father— _no, not her father_ , Sakura tried to remember—must have smiled because her mother— _not her mother either_ —beamed up at him tiredly.

"Sakura and Mikoto Uchiha. You will be loved."

Shock filtered through her system and this time, Sakura really did scream.

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So! I promise I will update my other stories but I'm kind of on a weird spazz thing where I just...go for things without thinking it through at all.

Any _ways_ , hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and I hope you tell me your thoughts :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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Family was a foreign concept for Sakura.

As a child, she had gone through life on her own, her parents rarely coming back from their trips to Kumo, Kiri and so on, and, by the time that she was six years old, she had been reduced to living alone with only her neighbors dropping by with groceries with no word. When Ino had found her, she was desperately trying to fill in the role of a loving figure in her life and she had ended up putting the girl on a pedestal, listening to whatever she said without question or sign of disobedience.

And then, Sakura had latched on to Sasuke Uchiha because he was _strong._ At first, she had wanted to marry him because he had a big family and she knew that no one in the Uchiha Clan would ever adopt her, a child of a small, barely existing civilian clan. She knew that if they married, they would be legally bound—family, if you wish—and if they liked her, that meant she could stay with them and eventually, maybe, they would learn to love her too.

The massacre came as a brutal, horrifying shock.

She had been too little to understand the repercussions of such a loss, because while she had distant parents who rarely came home, his family was _gone_. She cried for him the entire week, every night, hoping that somehow he would be able to live through this and _know_ that people cared about him—even if they were not people he knew about.

Sakura had decided, then and there, that she would build herself a family.

But, she had been a neglected child and she did not know _how_ to show familial affection. So, she copied Ino and the rest of the girls, nervously trying to figure out just where she went wrong when Uchiha Sasuke pushed her away—couldn't he see that she _cared_ about him? That she wanted to have a bond, like family with him?

 _(He always snuck looks at her, the strange one with the pink hair and sad eyes after she walked away.)_

Apparently not because Sakura could never remember a time where he looked upon her with fondness, nor a point in her life where he had even smiled at her, or what she said.

Only Naruto had ever had the pleasure of his pleased look.

 _(Sasuke could never look at her—she was too much. Too much goodness—potential. He never wanted his path for her so he pushed her away.)_

When she was placed on Team Seven, she went home and sobbed happily into her pillow for the rest of the night. She was thrilled, overjoyed when she realized she could finally have something resembling a family.

But. _But_.

There had to be Naruto and Sasuke. The fated brothers, the bond that transcended centuries and worlds to form and bind them to each other, locked in an eternal struggle, only beatable by one of their withdrawals. Kakashi had not helped her either. He only ever had eyes for the Uchiha heir—a carbon copy of himself as a child—and his sensei's son.

And Sakura had been alone again.

She had thought, that maybe, _maybe_ , if she spoke louder, was more frustrating, they would pay attention to her. Who she was, what she liked, why she liked it. Did they not want to know? Naruto, she found, for all his sweetness and adorable perseverance, only ever saw her as a conquest, some pretty little thing that looked shinier than the rest—it was a cruel, bitter thing to think, but it was _true_ —and Sasuke barely even looked at her.

 _(Naruto adored her but not in the way she thought to be true—only with trust and patience and kindness—for all of his bond with Sasuke, it was her that he knew he could go home to.)_

 _(Sasuke didn't look at her because he couldn't bear to see the happiness in her eyes—she looked too much like what could be home.)_

She doubted that Sasuke would include anyone but who he needed in his life and she wondered, for a long, long time whether or not he would ever be able to break out of the habit of using and discarding people like tools when he was done with them.

But she had loved them.

For all of their faults—and there were _many_ , also within herself—she had loved them. She had dedicated herself to them, to trying to cheer them up and make sure they had enough food—they were both orphans, you see and she, well she…wasn't—and she thought, maybe for just a little second, that it could have been enough.

It wasn't.

Still, Sakura tried. She pasted on smiles, went to every doctor's appointment and healing to make sure if they were alright—even if they did not see her—and she made them bentos for lunch every day. She knew Sasuke threw hers out. _(He didn't—he put it by the tree and saved it for later, when only Sakura's meticulous signature onigiri could calm the rage in him.)_ Naruto ate them with vigor and gratitude shining in his eyes. _(He always went home, happy tears in his eyes when he thought of how carefully she tucked the food in the box.)_ Kakashi just blinked when she offered him one and smiled, a plastic kind of smile, as if to say _this is the only thing you will ever be able to do, won't it?_

 _(He wasn't thinking it though. He thought she was the purest, kindest one of them all—the one that would succeed.)_

Of course, that was ruined as well. Sasuke left with the megalomaniac Orochimaru and Naruto disappeared with his lecherous counterpart, Jiraiya.

Kakashi, of course, merely left her with a note— _Make sure to train hard, Sakura-chan! I'm leaving on a mission for now._

And she had been left, standing there at the bridge, her face pale, her mouth drawn and her fingers clutching at a sheet of paper that was the only thing left of the people that she had invested in.

The people she had _adored._

 _(Kakashi waited for her at the bridge, three weeks later, up until nine o'clock at night.)_

Her parents died in an avalanche in stone the next month and she sat at the shrine she had built for them, facing strangers. Ino did not come to funeral and Sakura wondered, with a bitter twist to her lips, if she should just end it there and then, for she had nobody. She knew her body well enough to know that with the way she ate—small, supposedly tasteful, bites of food and no substance—and the fact that her ribs were visible and her hands trembled with every twitch of her arms, that she could bleed out in less than an hour.

Maybe even thirty minutes, if she was _lucky._

But then—then, she had seen her.

Tsunade-sama.

She had been drinking. Her face was flushed and her eyes were red-rimmed and Sakura was sure that if she were to smell her breath she would be able to _feel_ the burn of the sake on her tongue.

Nothing had ever looked more magnificent to Sakura than Tsunade-sama in that moment. Not the unification of Team Seven, not Kakashi's vague interest in her, not the idea of Sasuke's smile, nor Naruto's effortless cheer.

Tsunade-sama was beautiful and strong and she had _no one_. Her family had been killed, she was the last of her Clan, and she was still here.

Tsunade-sama was _still_ here.

Sakura had gotten up, dusted her knees off and made her way towards the older woman, a brilliant fire in her eyes. Then she had gotten down on her knees and begged her to let her become her apprentice. She didn't care that her hair was smudging in the dirt, nor that her cheeks must have had mud on them when she lifted her brow—she only gave the woman a brilliant, teary smile after she hesitantly agreed.

Tsunade-sama became a fixture in her life. A…mother of sorts. But it was different. She was not loved, per se, more like appreciated to the highest value and full of fondness. But she knew Tsunade-sama would not allow herself to love her. She had lost too much, too fast and her heart was irreversibly broken.

She had wondered one day, if she would come out ending up like that—a bottle of sake in one hand, a snarl on her lips and fierce rage in her green eyes.

For all the love that she was willing to share, willing to _give_ no one had ever reciprocated it. Not how she wanted it to be—not how she _needed it_ , at least.

Family had always been a foreign concept for Sakura but as she lay in her crib, her eyes locked onto her dozing sister, she wondered if this was how it was supposed to be like. Mikoto was small, like her now she supposed, and her eyes, where Sakura's were gray and still lacking color, were a dark, dark brown, very nearly black. Her skin was pale and Sakura could see the veins under her eyes if she squinted close enough.

Her sister was staring back at her, a gummy smile on her face and Sakura couldn't help but smile back, joy shining in her face. Mikoto reached forward and grabbed at her cheeks and Sakura mewed at the painful pinch of her sister's fingers.

"Ah!" Mikoto cried, her smile spreading wider on her chubby face. " _Ah!"_

Sakura gurgled something back in response—the best she could do really, as most of her motor skills were reduced to barely functioning. She was just glad that she had retained her adult mind.

Mikoto beamed at her and inched forward, clutching at her cheeks even wider.

"Sa-Sa." Her sister garbled. "Sa-Sa"

Sakura's breath whooshed out of her lungs and when her parents came into the room to watch their little girls, they could not understand why their youngest daughter was quietly crying, a twisted, happy smile on her face.

 _She had found her family._

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I've always thought that Team Seven was built on miscommunication. This is my take on that. I hope you all enjoyed it :) Tell me what you think!


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